


Not Strangers

by DonTheRock



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Art School, College, Drama, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gay, M/M, No Smut, Romance, Roommates, Sexual References, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonTheRock/pseuds/DonTheRock
Summary: When Jonah's meeting with Walker at their university's open jam night leads to something more, Jonah is convinced that it's just a one-time thing. After deciding to move into residence on campus next year, Jonah is shocked to find out that the guy assigned to be his roommate is someone he already knows.PG-13. Coarse language. Some sexual references. No smut.
Relationships: Amber/Andi Mack, Buffy Driscoll/Marty, Cyrus Goodman/T. J. Kippen, Jonah Beck/Walker Brodsky
Comments: 28
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. For the sake of this story, I'm going to pretend the legal drinking age in Utah is the same as where I live, which is 18. I don't know what Utah's actual drinking age is, but yeah. That's how it is now. Thanks.

I strum the last chord on the guitar, and the room erupts in applause. The reaction is a bit overwhelming. I've played for people many times before, yes, but that was always with my friends there to support me at Bowie's shop or at a cafe open mic. This is my first time performing for people at my university, University of Shadyside. Sure, it's only an open jam night in the school's pub/hangout spot, East Side Social, and there are only about fifty or sixty people occupying the tables, but it's fifty or sixty university students. It's a bit more intimidating for me, because I know I'm good around my friends and random old ladies in cafes, but being good in the eyes of university kids is different. Maybe it's that need for the approval of my peers, but it just feels so much more amazing finally going up and playing for them here rather than just watching from a table.

Andi, Buffy and Cyrus said they wanted to come see me perform the first time, but I purposefully didn't tell them I was coming tonight. If I did end up failing, I didn't want them around to witness that. Now that I know I did well, I kind of wish I didn't have to go back to my empty table, but I do, and the clapping dies off as I leave the guitar on its stand on the stage and take my seat in the crowd.

The strange thing about open mic nights is that, the second the next person goes up to perform, it's as though you were never there. Your glory is passed on to them, and your 3 minutes of fame is up. Occasionally, someone might find you later and compliment your act, but usually the only people who come up to me are my friends who gush over me the rest of the night. 

While the next act goes up, I take out one of my textbooks from my backpack to read, trying to feel less awkward sitting alone at a table for four. It would be nice if I could just go now, rather than stay here uncomfortable, but I wonder if others would judge me for leaving right after I'm done playing. Deciding I should support those still performing, I dive into my studies, hoping to at least get some reading done tonight.

It's not long before a body lowers into the chair across the table from me, and I raise my head up to see a boy in a burgundy, open button-up with blonde highlights in his curly black hair. 

"Hey, I wanted to tell you that I really liked your song," he says.

"Thank you," I reply. 

His smile reminds me of Flynn Rider from Tangled. It's charming in a way that lures me in. 

He leans forward a bit and extends his hand out, saying, "I'm Walker, by the way."

I shake his hand and respond, "I'm Jonah."

Our hands hold for a second longer than normal as his stare keeps mine locked on him. When he does let go, it's like breaking a dam. A wave of an indescribable feeling floods over me, but I'll try to describe it anyway. Imagine jumping off a cliff and knowing you're going to land safely, but you don't know whether you will bounce softly on a bed of feathers, or whether you'll be swallowed by an ocean of lukewarm water. Both are equally as comfortable, but one is far more intense. 

"So are you here alone?" he wonders. 

"Yeah. Just came to play guitar and"—I gesture to my book—"get some work done while I'm at it."

"Sociology of Gender," Walker reads off my book. "You a sociology major?"

"Yup. What about you?"

He puts on a big grin. "Guess."

"Hmm. Well, I see some paint on your shirt, so I'm gonna say probably something I'm not good at."

He laughs at that and elaborates, "Drawing major."

"Then shouldn't you have pencil on your shirt and not paint?" I question.

"Yeah, well, first year art students have to do a bunch of random intro courses."

"You're in first year? So am I."

"I'm fresh outta high school," he responds. 

"Same."

His eyes pierce into me, and I feel my heartbeat create ripples in the ocean surrounding me like a beacon in the dark. My body seems to think I should be giving in to the sense of attraction that I feel, which is annoying, because I wish it would stop. Obviously he's cute, but I have no intention of letting him get to me. I made a promise to myself this semester that I'd focus on my schoolwork, because my first semester was a huge mess due to trying to study and date at the same time. Besides, I've only ever dated girls before, so this is way out of my scope of experience anyway. 

"Did you come here with friends?" I ask. 

"Well, yeah," Walker replies, "but they're off playing foosball."

"You're not a foosball kind of guy?"

"I mean, I am, but—" he pauses a moment, completing his sentence in his head before saying it out loud "—I have other priorities."

He means me. I know he means me. 

"Like your schoolwork?" I ask. 

"Nah. I finished that before coming here."

"This is university. Is anyone ever really done their work?"

He chuckles and leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. 

"So in art, do you just get to draw all day, or do you have actual written work too?" I wonder. 

"I do have to take art history and english classes," he explains, "so yeah, there's some writing. But I tend to procrastinate that so that I can do the fun stuff first. I actually just finished something for my painting class. I had to choose a song and paint the essence of it."

"Which song did you choose?" I ask curiously. 

"Have you ever heard 'Finding My Way Home' by Far Caspian?"

"Nope."

"Well, that's it."

"So what does the essence of that look like?"

"I could show you," he offers, "unless you're too invested in the sociology of gender to leave for a moment."

I glance down at my book then back up at him and his grin. There's an obvious correct choice here—so of course I make the wrong one. 

"Sure."

It turns out his painting is kept in a studio on the fifth floor of the Arts Building. He explains on the way there how he and three other students share the space. It's just a spot where they can all store and create their works, and only the four of them have access to it using their school ID cards. Of course, with it being past nine on a Thursday night, the others aren't in there working right now. 

I gaze around the room as Walker lets me in, and I set my backpack down on the floor. It's a decent-sized space with four large work tables and a wrap-around counter and cabinets to store art supplies. Walker brings me over to his work station, and on an easel sits his painting. It's interesting to look at, because although I have never heard the song, I feel like I can hear it through this art. Shades of blue and grey swirl over the canvas, with glowing orbs of purple every once in a while. I make out a face in the haze of colour, but its barely visible. Other smaller details dust the strokes, but they're all abstract from what I can tell. 

"Wow," I breathe. "It's... You're really talented."

He smiles and looks at the art then to me. "Thanks."

His shoulder is nearly touching mine. By basic social conventions, he's standing way too close, but I find I'm unable to move away. 

"Do you have any other projects you're working on?" I ask. 

"Well, I have one for my drawing class," Walker answers, "but I haven't started it yet. I'm supposed to pick someone to get to know and then draw the essence of them."

"What's with art profs and the essence of things?" I say with a laugh.

He chuckles. "No idea."

There's a pause while my rationality fights with my impulsiveness, but in the end, I land somewhere in between the two.

"Have you chosen someone yet?" I ask. 

The instant his eyes meet mine, I feel the heat of them burning like a fire, but I don't want to cool off. 

"Still looking," he replies. "But I think I might've found someone."

I feel his fingers graze my wrist as he turns to face me. I think that rational part of my brain shuts down completely when his hand finds my hip and his lips move closer to mine. Rather than decide I should leave to go back to the jam night or to go home and study, I thaw under his kiss, and a surge of oxytocin takes over my instincts.

Our kiss gets more heated by the second, changing from light and tender to strong and invigorating. When his lips move down to my jaw and then to my neck, I manage to get my brain to make one more rational statement. 

"I'm not looking for any kind of commitment."

Walker brings his eyes up to mine again, responding, "Neither am I."

And then his lips come back to mine, and I forget all the objections I initially had. 

This isn't love, and it doesn't have to be. This can just be fun. No need for commitment. No need for a relationship. I can let myself have this time with Walker, and then I'll get back to focusing on schoolwork tomorrow. Besides, it's not like I'll ever have to see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I had an idea, because I wanted to do a university/college thing, since I've never done that yet. I hope y'all are are excited for the rest. Just a heads up, the next part takes place six months later. I'm not going to continue updating this, though, until I've finished KAAFF and Moonbow. Anyway, have a lovely day, and I'll be updating KAAFF next probably, so yeah. Bye!


	2. Chapter 2

Cyrus carries a container of my belongings for me while I roll a giant suitcase along behind me. He was kind enough to agree to help me move into my residence today. Last year, I lived at home, but now that I'm a second-year, I wanted to try something new, and I've heard that living in residence is pretty fun, so here I am. 

We travel down the fifth floor hallway of the North Residence building, which is buzzing with life now, although just one week ago nobody was here. It's the week before classes start, so everybody's getting settled in. Some people walk the hallways, chatting with their friends, while others look as lost as me, trying to figure out which room is theirs. Thankfully, even though his room is with Andi and Buffy in the South Residence building, Cyrus has been through this building many times, since TJ lives here with Marty during the school year, so he knows where he's going.

"Are you excited?" Cyrus asks me. "Do you think you'll throw a party? If you do, make sure to invite me. I've got some fly new moves for the dance floor."

I laugh, replying, "Cyrus, your moves might be too much for uni students. I think they'd be intimidated."

"TJ said the same thing last year," Cyrus says with a pout. "He wouldn't let me go to Reed's party."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want you going to Reed's parties either. You're too innocent for that."

"Hey, I can be bad," Cyrus huffs, but at his attempt to make a stern face, he breaks into laughter. "Okay, fine."

"To answer your earlier question," I say, "I am pretty excited. I'm ready to not be the only one of our friend group not living on campus."

"Do you know who your roommate is yet?" Cyrus asks. 

"No. I'm pretty sure the school sent an email, but I didn't read it."

"You should really be reading your emails."

"Hey, if it's important enough, someone will tell me."

"That's kinda the point of the emails," Cyrus says. 

All of a sudden, a door at the end of the hallway opens, and TJ steps out. When he glances over, he notices Cyrus, and the shorter boy sets down the container of my stuff and runs up to his boyfriend to meet him with a kiss. 

While their lips are together, Marty appears out from the same door and says, "You have a room. Take it in there or give it a rest."

Cyrus and TJ separate, both grinning at the comment. Then TJ turns his attention over to me.

"Hey, Jonah," he says. "Need help moving in?"

"I'm good, thanks," I reply. "Well, as long as Cyrus picks up that box again and helps me like he said he would."

Cyrus gets the hint and returns back to pick up what he dropped.

"Thanks," I say. "I think the room is close."

"It's right there." Cyrus starts walking toward the room across the hall from TJ and Marty's. 

"Room 512?" TJ says. "Cool, we're neighbours."

Cyrus looks at him with gentle eyes, and corrects, "It's 521."

"Oh," TJ responds. "Right." He lets out a chuckle, adding, "Guess that's why I'm a history major and not math."

Although TJ has learned to be comfortable with his dyscalculia, it's still apparent that he's a little disappointed whenever he makes a mistake like that, the kind that other people don't have trouble with. To make him feel better, after I unlock my room, Cyrus sets the box of my stuff just inside the door then goes back out to take TJ's face in his hands and kiss him another time. TJ forgets about his mistake in an instant. 

"Okay," Marty interrupts them, "you ready to go, TJ?"

"Yeah," TJ replies. Then he looks to me and Cyrus. "We're meeting Buffy and Andi at East Side Social. You guys wanna join?"

"Yes," Cyrus answers, "but I'm gonna help Jonah unpack first."

"I can take care of it," I say. "You go ahead, and I'll meet you there."

"You sure?" Cyrus checks. 

"Yeah," I confirm. "I'll be, like, ten minutes."

He nods. "Okay. See you there."

"Yup."

He, TJ and Marty all leave to go to the pub, leaving me to explore my res on my own. 

I've heard U of S had good residences, but I didn't expect it to be this nice. I step forward into the main kitchen and living room. To my left, there are two bedrooms separated by a bathroom. I can see that my roommate's already set up his room. Through the open door, I gaze around at the art hung on the walls. Drawings, paintings, and works of other mediums decorate the whole space. My roommate must be an artist. Soon, my eyes stop on a particular painting. Why do I feel like I recognize those blue and grey swirls?

Suddenly, the memory hits me like a paddle to the face. Of all the people who could've been assigned to my room, it's him. Seriously? Him? 

The sound of footsteps spin me around, and I catch eyes with the boy. His hair is a bit longer, but it's definitely him. His mouth drops a little when he sees me too, and I wonder how much he remembers. 

"Hey," he says. "Jonah, right?"

Fuck. He remembers my name. He probably remembers my…everything else. 

"Uh, yeah," I respond.

Feeling too flustered to think clearly, I decide it's best for me to unpack my things later.

"I'm actually on my way out," I say, "so I'll see you later."

I'm gone before he can say anything else. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ The university really had to do that to me, huh? They really had to make him my roommate?

________________________________________

East Side Social is almost empty today, which is expected, since the school year hasn't started yet. Marty, Buffy, TJ and Cyrus all sit at the table with me. Amber would be here too, but I assume she must be busy. 

"Wait, let me get this straight," Buffy says. "Your roommate is a guy you hooked up with last spring?"

I nod, feeling humiliated, even though I know these are my best friends, so they wouldn't judge me. But I can expect to be teased about this for quite a while. 

"Well, that's a fun coincidence," Andi says. "That's what my dad would call an act of the universe."

"The universe is deliberately trying to make me super uncomfortable?" 

"Nobody knows what the universe's intentions are," she replies. 

"Is it too late to decide to just live at home?" I mumble.

"Why are you letting this bother you so much?" TJ says. "So you did something with this guy half a year ago. That doesn't mean you can't just be friends now."

That's true. I guess he's right. But even the idea of being friends with him feels strange. I just don't want to see him. Period. I want to focus on school this year and try to get my GPA up, and he's a distraction that I don't need. 

When TJ's eyes shift up to something behind me, I glance back, and my stomach flips. _You're kidding._

The curly-haired boy gives me the familiar smile that got me into this situation six months ago. 

"Hey," he says. Then to my friends, "I'm Jonah's roommate, Walker."

"Oh, so you're him," Andi responds. "What brings you here?"

"I was walking by and noticed my roommate here," Walker says, gesturing to me, "and I wanted to see if he was any good at foosball."

Well, I'm not going to be a dick and say no, so I accept the offer and follow him over to the foosball table. He picks up the ball and drops it into the centre, beginning the game. While we knock the ball back and forth, he starts a conversation. 

"So how are you?"

Right now, that's such a loaded question. 

"Fine," I answer dryly. 

"Okay."

I bump the ball back once more, and it zips past his goalie, scoring me a point. 

"Nice shot," he says with a grin. 

I simply nod, wishing this would be over already, and I think he notices that, which is probably why doesn't drop the ball onto the table again yet. 

"Hey, you know this doesn't have to be awkward," he tells me. "We can be friends. That doesn't change just because we—"

"Yup," I cut him off franticly. "Sure, of course."

"It's not a big deal." he emphasizes once more. 

"Yeah, I guess so," I agree. 

Clearly our history isn't bugging him the way it is me, so if he doesn't feel weird about it, then I suppose I shouldn't either. 

"So are you gonna start the next round?" I question.

With a satisfied smile, he drops the ball, and I attempt to play my best, but it's hard when my eyes keep drifting up to him. He is really attractive, and he's also obviously way more put together than me. But yeah, I can just be friends with him. It doesn't have to be weird. 

My sight catches on his hands then floats up his muscular arms and all the way to his deep, dark eyes. Yeah, it will be interesting to see how this goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to get another chapter of this out for y'all. I hope you liked it. I definitely neglected my homework today, so I've gotta do that. Um, I love you all! I likely won't have an update tomorrow, but I'm gonna try to update again today. Goodbye, lovelies!


	3. Chapter 3

"So anyway," TJ says, "once I learn how to do tarot readings, I'll give you one."

TJ and I come down the hallway toward our rooms, having finished classes for the day. The whole walk, I've been listening to him go on about some magic class he has to take for his Religious Studies minor. He didn't call it magic class exactly. I think he said it was Esotericism, Mysticism, and the Occult. It sounds basically like magic class. 

"That'll be a crowd-pleaser at parties," I joke. 

He laughs. "Well, maybe just at our friend group's hangouts."

He gets out his school ID card to swipe it to unlock his door. 

"See you later," he says, and I say the same. 

I turn to enter my own room, but right when I open the door, I see a group of four people all gathered around the television playing something on the PS4 that I didn't realize was in here. I guess walker must've brought it. When the door falls closed, all the eyes shift to me, and Walker gives me a wave. 

"Hey, Jonah." Then he turns to his guests, explaining, "This is my roommate."

They all say a collective, "Hey."

"Jonah," Walker says, "these are my friends. That's Justin." He points to the lone boy on the chair. Then to the couple sitting close together on the couch. "And that's Kiara and Wen."

"Uh...hi," I say. 

It's a little weird coming home to see a bunch of strangers in my living room. Like, it would've been nice if Walker had even texted me to give me a heads-up. But then again, I have been doing my best to stay out of his way for the past week, so I guess he probably figured I didn't care. 

"We're just playing some games," Walker says. "You can join us if you want."

"That's okay. I have homework to do."

"That's chill."

Walker turns away from me, forgetting about my presence in an instant as he goes back to his game, and I walk over to my room. Once inside, I drop my backpack on my bed and begin taking out my books. But as I settle down at my desk to read, the sounds of the video game seep into my room, and I realize realize they're playing Battlefield One. That's one of my favorite games. 

Wanting to see what's going on, I stand back up and wander over to the doorway. I stay there for a while, just watching Kiara play her round, but eventually Walker glances back and notices me. 

"You sure you don't wanna play?" he checks. 

"Well…" I contemplate that for a moment. "Sure."

I make my way over to sit on the couch which Walker sits on the arm rest of. Wen and Kiara are at the other end, but there's enough space for me to squeeze in. After Kiara's character dies, she passes the remote to me."

"You any good at this?" she asks. 

"I don't want to jinx it by answering that," I reply.

She laughs, and I start my round. I manage to get a higher kill count than Kiara by over double, which leaves her impressed as I give the remote over to Justin to take over.

"Nice," Kiara says. 

"Thanks. I've been playing games like this since I was younger than I should've been allowed to."

"You'll have to show Walker how to play sometime," Wen chimes in. "He can't aim for his life."

I glance up at Walker who looks hurt, but he's laughing anyway. I've been avoiding him for so long, but now that I just let myself relax, I realize it's really not that hard to just act normal. This kind of joking with him and his friends makes everything feel lighter, and I'm thinking that maybe it won't be so hard to be friends with him after all. 

______________________________________

I finally get the chance to finish my homework in the evening once Walker's friends have to leave. After skimming the last chapter in my textbook, I lean back in my chair and catch a glimpse of Walker out in the kitchen. Curious, I step out to see what he's doing, finding him picking out one of the four metal spoons that we have stocked in our drawer so far. 

"What'chu doin?" I ask. 

"Cooking dinner," he answers.

"You cook?" I say in surprise. 

"I mean, it's just ramen," he says with a chuckle. 

"Oh," I say, mirroring his laugh.

"You done studying for the day?" he asks. 

"Yeah. I just finished the first three chapters of Introduction to Indigenous History in the U.S."

"Is that for sociology?" he questions. 

"Actually, it's for Peace and Conflict Studies," I correct. "That's my minor."

"Damn. You're doing a lot."

"Not really," I say. "There are only two mandatory courses, and the rest are just six from a list of, like, thirty that I choose."

"Still," he says, "I don't have the drive to do a minor. I just like drawing."

"And cooking ramen."

"Oh, yeah," he agrees with a grin. "I'm a pretty advanced chef if I do say so myself."

"Well, I can't even cook an egg," I respond, "so you're better than me."

He furrows his brows and purses his lips before saying, "Is that really better? All I do is add hot water."

"At least you can add the right amount of water," I argue. 

"You can't?"

"Well, when I make eggs, I always put too much oil in the pan."

"I have a non-stick pan," he says. 

"Me too."

"But then—"

"That's why I put too much oil in the pan."

He lets out a laugh. "I'm thinking I'll get some cookbooks, and maybe we can actually make some decent meals during the year."

"Sounds like a plan. My dad has a bunch of books on baking, so I'll see if he'll lend me those, and then we could make some desserts." 

"Oooh. We could make rhubarb pie."

"I've never met someone whose favorite pie is rhubarb," I respond. 

"That just means you've never met anyone with good taste," he says with a grin. 

"I can't say I agree, but I ain't here to start a fight."

"Well, what's your favorite pie?" he asks. 

"Pumpkin. The best pie."

"Okay, pumpkin's good around Thanksgiving, but once it's past that, it just doesn't make sense. It's like candy canes. You wouldn't eat those in May."

"Candy canes and pumpkin pie are not the same," I debate.

"How about we agree to disagree?"

"Sure," I say. "But you'll be swayed once I make pumpkin pie for us."

He shakes his head and laughs a little at that. Then he goes to grab a container of instant ramen noodles from the cabinet. 

As he turns around again, he asks, "Want me to make you some ramen too?"

I'm about to say yes, but then my phone beeps and I see a text from Andi. 

**Andi:** Some of us are at my place having Chinese food if you want to come.

"Thanks," I reply to Walker instead, "but it looks like my friends are actually having dinner together, so I should join them. Another night, though?"

He smiles. "For sure."

I feel ten times calmer than I've been since coming here as I walk out of my room and into the hall. I think this might turn out to be a pretty good year. My roommate seems a pretty good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola, friends! I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter of banter and laughs. Chapter five is gonna be a ride, so yeah. I love you all! Thank you for reading, and I'm gonna try to update IGYHWD once today too. Maybe if we're lucky, I'll update this again, but I doubt it. Have a good day!


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey," I say as Andi opens the door to her room for me. 

I expect Buffy, Cyrus and TJ to all be here, but they're not. The only ones here are Amber and Iris, Amber's roommate. The two of them sit on the couch, stabbing chop sticks through ginger beef to eat them like skewers. 

"Is it just you three?" I ask. 

"Yeah," Andi replies. "Buffy and Marty are both doing stuff with friends from their classes, and TJ and Cyrus are off doing something together. I don't know what."

"Usually when you say there are friends over, you mean the good hair crew," I say. 

"Well, I thought you'd probably want to get out of your room for a while," Andi explains. "I know it's been awkward with Walker and all."

I guess that was nice of her to think of me, and yeah, I was complaining about how awkward it was for, like, the past week, so really I should appreciate how thoughtful she is. But I was actually starting to get along with him, and I kind of wanted to stay and eat ramen with him. Still, Andi is giving me free Chinese food, so I can't be that upset. 

"It's actually not that awkward anymore," I say while going over to join Amber and Iris in the living room. 

"Really?" Andi responds. "What changed?"

"I played Battlefield with him and his friends. Turns out he's not good at it, though, but he does want to make Rhubarb pie. Oh, and he makes ramen."

"Damn," Andi says as she sits down next to her girlfriend on the couch. "I didn't even make the money that paid for this Chinese food."

"That would be me," Iris says. 

"Oh, do I owe you anything?" I ask. 

"It's fine," Iris replies. "I don't need money."

"I wish I was as financially stable as you," I say. "I pick up every dime I find on the street to use for lunch money. But soon Walker and I are going to try cooking dinners, which will hopefully help my money issues, so I'll invite you over when that happens. You guys can make sure it's edible before we eat it."

"Cool," Amber says. "If I end up throwing up from food poisoning that night, I'll know who to blame."

"I've never cooked before, so that might not be unlikely. Just in case, don't wear a shirt you like."

She laughs, and Andi hands me a plate to fill with food for myself. 

_________________________________________

The main hallway of the largest University building is called Main Street. It's like the spine of the building, linking all of the wings together and allowing the most traffic to flow through it constantly. Whenever there are special conventions or events happening, they almost always take place here, or at least they advertise here. This week happens to be club week, and I walk past the countless line of tables with Buffy, Andi and Cyrus, all of us looking around at the different options. 

"They have a Manga club," Cyrus points out. "Ooh, and a Swedish Tort Law club."

"That's a very niche club," Buffy comments. 

"What clubs are you guys wanting to join?" I ask. 

"I was looking at running club," Buffy replies. 

"Hey, they have art club," Andi says.

I follow her eyes over to the table with a colourful, handmade sign. Quickly, I recognize one of the people manning the table. 

"Isn't that Walker," Andi says. 

"Uh, yeah."

The four of us go over to the table, and he smiles when he sees us—mostly at me, though, because he doesn't really know my friends that well.

"Hey," Walker says. "Are you guys interested in art club?"

"Of course," Andi responds. "When is it at?"

"Thursdays at 6:00-8:00."

Andi lets out a groan of disappointment. "I have a class then. Stupid glassblowing."

"You in art?" Walker questions. 

"I am," she answers. 

"Same here. I'm a drawing major."

"Sculpting for me."

I'm glad they're getting along, but part of me feels a little jealous. He is my roommate after all, not hers. Shouldn't he be wanting to talk to me more? But I probably shouldn't have avoided him for so long when we first moved in. Even though we've been talking now the past few days, it takes a while to build a friendship, and he does most of his schoolwork in study areas rather than in our res, so we don't cross paths that often until the evenings. 

"Hey, Andi," Buffy says, tapping her shoulder, "they have bracelet-making club."

The girls go off together, and Cyrus is already gone too, although I don't know where he went. That leaves me to talk to Walker, and Walker doesn't seem to mind me staying. 

"So do you run this club?" I ask him. 

"I'm one of six who oversee it," he replies. "Are you interested in joining?"

"I'm not the best at art," I say. 

"You don't need to be good. You just have to like it."

"I don't know," I say. "That last time I did art, I broke my pencil lead five times from pressing too hard."

"You really get into your work, huh?" he says with a chuckle. 

"That, or I get annoyed at the paper really fast and can't draw lightly."

"Well, what clubs do you like?" he wonders. 

"I'm not sure yet. I didn't join any last year."

"You weren't in clubs? But they're, like, the only reason I was able to maintain my mental health during finals time. Also, the free counselling helped, but it was mostly the clubs."

"Yeah, I remember, in orientation last year, the profs all said that we should join clubs, because that's what will make our university experiences fun."

"And yet you didn't listen," Walker says, shaking his head. 

"I mean, I also don't read the emails."

"You don't read the emails?"

"Someone always tells me when there's something I should know."

He laughs a little, saying, "That someone's not gonna be me. You've got to pull your weight if we're gonna be roommates."

"How about you tell me when there are things I should know, and I'll take that as you paying me back for me helping you not be terrible at Battlefield."

With a grin, he agrees, "I guess that's fair."

I make the mistake of glancing to my left, which results in me realizing my friends are way out of sight, and that I should catch up with them. Unfortunately, that means leaving Walker. 

"I should go find my friends," I say.

"Sure," Walker says. "I'll see you Later."

I give him a smile, but as I start to step away, he stops me once more.

"We actually do events sometimes—art club. We do things that aren't just doing art. I'll let you know when we do something, so that maybe you can come."

"Cool," I reply. "Thanks."

He nods, and I carry on down main street. Eventually, I do spot Buffy and Andi at the African cultures club table. 

"Oh, hey," Andi says. "Did you end up joining art club?"

"I didn't," I answer. 

Then Cyrus appears out of the crowd, announcing, "I just joined gaming club. I am a gamer now. They added me to their discord server and everything."

That makes the three of us laugh, but Cyrus keeps a proud smile on his face. 

"Cyrus," Buffy says, "Have you ever played any video games before?"

"I most definitely have," Cyrus replies, looking offended. 

Buffy raises an eyebrow. "Other than Wii bowling."

"Wii bowling is a highly competitive game that requires strategic thinking and increased mental effort," Cyrus argues. 

Buffy just chuckles and says, "You'll be a great gamer."

Cyrus grins happily. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it took me so long to update. I ended up completely rewriting where this was going, because it seemed like it was lacking plot, so I've got it now, and I'm excited. Have a lovely night.


	5. Chapter 5

Raindrops stripe the windows as they drizzle down toward the ground outside. The halls are a lot more crowded as I leave my class, surely due to the weather. Those who usually take the outdoor paths are inside, including myself, have been forced inside. I typically like to leave directly for my res after this class, since it's my last of the day, but I decide I'll stay and work on my schoolwork here rather than brave the rain. 

I turn into the wing of the school where there's a nice quiet study area with a tall glass wall and a skylight. It's especially mesmerizing today as I sit down at one of the empty tables. My eyes gaze up at the water pelting the clear barrier above me. It makes me feel like I'm inside a bubble. My sight follows one of the raindrops down the side of the building, but my eyes stop when I notice a body sitting under the cover of the gazebo outside. Why is he outside in the rain? 

I get up from my seat and double check that my backpack is zipped up before heading toward the doors. Somehow, the plain fact that it's raining does not cross my mind until I'm already outside, and now I just have to run in order to try to avoid as much rain as I can. I dash down the stone walkway and past rows of flowers to get to the gazebo in the centre of the lawn between the two branches of the building. When I finally get back under cover, I'm only a little wet, so it seems like it will dry fast. 

Walker sits on one of the two benches under the structure with his backpack on the stone ground and a sketchbook on his lap. Oddly, neither he nor any of his stuff is damp even in the slightest bit. At my appearance, he looks up from the drawing he's been working on and gives me a once-over. 

"You know, there are better times to go for a jog than when it's raining," he says. 

I sit down on the bench across from him, saying, "You know, there are better times to be working on water-soluble artwork outside than when it's raining."

"I started working here earlier in the day," he explains. "When it started drizzling, I made the call to not go inside, and now I'm basically just stuck here."

"So you've just been bored and alone this whole time?"

"Bored, yes, but not alone. I saw a frog a while ago."

"I'm glad you made a new friend," I tease. 

"Oh, yeah," he says. "He was super chill."

The two of us laugh for a moment before I ask, "Where is the frog now?"

"Ran away," Walker answers. "He was a fake friend."

"I'm sorry," I say, still chuckling. "I know I'm nowhere near as special as that frog was to you, but I hope you don't mind my company instead."

"Well, you've got a lot to live up to," Walker jokes, "but I think you can do it."

When he grins, I can't help but smile too. That's just kind of our thing, I guess. He acts normal, and I get a fuzzy feeling. At this point, I know I'm attracted to him, but I also know that I have no intention of ever acting on those feelings again. It would just complicate things further, and I like not being attached to a person in a relationship. I like being able to do whatever I want with whoever I want and not have the commitment. So even though I really like talking to him and being around him, I really don't need this to go anywhere. I'm fine with just friends. Yeah, I'm fine with that. 

"So what have you been doing all day?" he asks. 

"Just classes," I answer. "I had lunch with Cyrus and Amber."

"Who's Amber, again?" 

"You haven't met her yet," I reply. "She's Andi's girlfriend."

"Wait, so are all your friends in relationships?" he questions. 

"Um, yeah. I'm not really big on—"

"Commitment," Walker finishes for me. "Same. Kiara and Wen have been dating since high school, and Justin has a girlfriend, but she's in the nursing program here, so she's almost always doing schoolwork."

"Yeah, I hear nursing is a heavy course load."

"All those medical ones are," Walker agrees. "I've also heard business is pretty busy."

"Really? My friend, Marty, is in business—marketing, to be exact—but he hardly ever seems to be doing work. Then again, he also stays up till four every night, so he probably does all his work then."

"Four, huh? And every night? That's impressive."

"I think he stayed up for four days straight once in high school," I recall. "He was trying to beat Buffy with seeing who could stay up the longest. Buffy won, but he really tried."

"Wow. The longest I've ever stayed up is two days," Walker says with a chuckle. "That will help her during finals, though. What's her major?"

"Sports management."

"I've never met anyone doing that," Walker responds. "I didn't actually know that was a thing until now."

"Neither did I until she told me she was in it," I admit. 

"What about your other friend, the small one who brags about being a gamer?"

"Cyrus," I say. "He's doing film production with a minor in social work."

"That's an interesting combination of subjects."

"He's an interesting guy."

"He seems like it. Did you guys know each other before university?"

"Yeah. We've been friends since middle school when I had a thing with his friend, Andi, and then Andi and I dated for, like, a day before I left for ultimate Frisbee camp."

"Dang. You really aren't good with commitment, are you?" 

He laughs again and brings his pencil onto his paper, beginning to sketch something again, and I try to look over to see what it is, but I can't get a clear view. 

"What are you drawing?" I ask him. 

He lifts the sketchbook for me to see, and I'm not sure whether I'm under or overwhelmed by the mess of scribbles all over the page.

"It's cool," I say, trying to act like I know what it is.

"No, it's not," he responds with a slight chuckle. "I've been out here for three hours. This picture began as a flower, and now it's just a lot of lines and shading in random places."

"I think I would've gone crazy after that long."

"Well, lucky for me, I like rain."

"You like rain?" I say in surprise. 

"Yeah, it's chill."

"That's ironic," I say with a laugh, "because currently I'm the one covered in rain, and you're the one completely dry."

I only meant that as a joke. I didn't mean for it to encourage Walker to put his sketchbook on the bench and walk outside right into the downpour, and yet that's what happens. He stands for a moment with his face up, taking in the water, before he turns to me. 

"Come on," he says. 

"Uh, I purposefully tried to stay dry coming over here," I say. 

"Lame," he responds. 

"You're calling me lame?" 

"Yes."

"I'm not lame," I argue. 

"Prove it."

He looks at me, challenging me with his eyes. My feet act before my head, taking me out into the shower, and all my effort to avoid the rain earlier becomes wasted. But I don't mind it. 

Then he lowers down onto the wet grass, and I think he must really have gone crazy. 

"You gonna join me?" he asks. 

"It's wet," I say. 

"You're already wet," he reasons.

That's a good point. With a sigh, I sink down beside him, copying him by sitting cross-legged. I watch as he lifts his chin to the sky and looks up at the clouds, somehow able to keep his eyes almost fully open. 

"What are you doing?" I question. 

"I'm taking in my surroundings," he replies. 

"Is this what artists do?" I joke. 

"No. This is what I do."

I keep my eyes on him for a bit. He's such an interesting character, inside and out. Right now, the out part of that is becoming more prominent as his soaked shirt begins to cling to the muscles in his chest, which I do my best to avoid staring at. 

"Don't look at me," he says suddenly, snapping me back to reality. "Look at the sky."

Feeling my face turning red, I do as told and raise my head up. We sit like this for a while before he speaks again. 

"Are you taking in your surroundings?"

"Well, my eyes are taking in a lot of rain," I respond. "It's kind of stinging a little."

He laughs and looks down at me, and I lower my chin too, wiping my eyes clean. 

"Maybe we should go take in our surroundings inside," he suggests.

"Sounds like a plan," I agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you all liked this chapter. I liked it a lot. Anyway, I've got some plot ideas for a Rina story, so I'm starting to think about that. Yeah, so good night, lovelies.


	6. Chapter 6

Dry clothes feel nice after being out in the rain. Walker went straight into the shower when we got back to our room, and I decided to take my guitar out to the living room to practice for a bit. 

I'm so focused on strumming that I don't even hear when the shower in the washroom shuts off, so the door opening scares me, and I whip my eyes back to see Walker coming out in a pair of sweatpants and no shirt. _And I thought the wet shirt was the biggest test of my self-control. I stand corrected._

His damp hair falls in curls around his face, as he comes over to sit on the arm rest of the chair nearby.

"Nice song," he says. "Did you write it?"

"Um, yeah," I respond, "back in middle school. I wanted to see if I still remembered it."

"What's it called?" 

"'I Cried,'" I answer. 

"It sounds catchy."

"Thanks. You don't play any instruments, do you?"

"I tried to learn the piano when I was younger, but it didn't stick," Walker explains. "Mostly, I just started playing it because my dad played the piano in a band, and I wanted to be like him."

"That's cool. What band was it?"

"If you're thinking you might know it, I doubt you do. It was a group called The Baseboards, and they just played covers at events around Shadyside and nearby towns. He wasn't famous or anything."

"He still sounds cool," I say. 

"He was."

"What's he doing now?" I wonder. 

"I don't know," Walker says. "Hopefully something just as cool. He died when I was fifteen."

"Oh," I mutter. "That's hard. Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay," Walker insists. "All good things come to an end, right? I still have the memories. He used to take me to his gigs, and one time I even got to play with them. It was just the maracas, but I thought I was a real rockstar."

I don't want to interrupt his reminiscing, so I just listen to him talk. Honestly, I don't mind it at all. He tells his story like it's the most important part of his life, and maybe it is. I don't really know him well enough yet to make a judgement. But I wouldn't mind knowing him better. 

"Anyway," Walker says, "that's enough about me. Tell me something about you. How did you get into guitar?"

"Well, my friend's dad taught guitar lessons to people, and he showed me the guitar," I explain. "It helped me stay calm."

"Did you have anxiety?" Walker asks.

"I got panic attacks," I say. 

I really don't know why I'm telling him all this. Usually, I keep personal things to myself, especially the part about me having panic attacks. But sharing with Walker doesn't really feel like I'm telling someone else. He's not really someone else. He's him. I'm telling him, and telling him just feels...safe. 

"Do you still get them?" he wonders. 

"Yeah. I'm better at managing them, though."

"That's good," Walker responds, a gentle smile on his face.

For a minute, we just look at each other, neither of us saying anything. There's no need to say anything. Our eyes say everything. They say, _I'm comfortable right now. I like this right now. I like you right now._ As I feel myself sinking too deep into the moment, I resurface like a bubble searching for the sky. 

"Anyway," I say, pulling my eyes away from his, "what are you doing tonight?"

"I'm meeting my group to work on an art history presentation," he answers. 

"Group project, eh?" I say. "How's that going?"

"Well, nobody's skipped the meetings yet, so I'd say it's going decent so far." He lets out a chuckle. A few seconds later, he adds, "By the way, on Thursday, the art club is doing this event to raise funds. It's art bingo at East Side Social. All the prizes are art-related, and I know you're not super into art, but hey, if you win, you can give me the prize, and maybe I'll paint your guitar case or something for you."

"I doubt I'll win, but I'll come," I say.

"Cool," Walker says. Then he stands up off the arm rest and says, "I should probably go finish getting dressed before heading out."

In my personal opinion, I'm totally okay with him not putting on a shirt, but that's not something I should say out loud, so I just smile and laugh in response. My eyes follow his path as he leaves into his bedroom. Once he's gone, I try to continue playing the song I was playing before, but my mind can't seem to find what song I was playing anymore, so I just start strumming something new. 

________________________________________

It's two dollars for entry to the event, which is small, but with the amount of people here, I can tell it's going to add up fast. Buffy was the only one of my friends able to come tonight, because the rest all had too much schoolwork to do. She looks around at all the people as we enter East Side Social. 

"Everyone here looks so artsy," Buffy comments. "I feel out of place."

"Same," I agree, but that out-of-place feeling only lasts for about a second before I see Walker cutting through the crowd to get to me. 

"You made it," he says with a smile that makes my pulse suddenly become a lot more noticeable. 

"I did," I respond nervously. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Buffy give me a curious look, but I don't turn to meet it. 

"Cool, well, we're not starting yet, so you two can feel free to grab a table and chill for a bit," Walker says. "I have to go talk to the rest of art club, so I won't be able to join you."

"Sure, no worries," I say.

Walker gives me one last smile before stepping away to be absorbed by the crowd again. Once he's gone, Buffy comes around in front of me with her eyebrows showing her concentration. 

"So how's being friends with him going?" she asks. 

"Uh, fine," I answer. 

"Just fine?" she pries. 

"Yes."

She nods slowly. "Okay."

"I'm not lying."

"You saying that only makes me think you're lying," she tells me. 

"Whatever," I say, shaking my head. "Let's go find a table."

She follows me through the crowd until I spot two people I know and go up to them.

"Kiara, Wen, hey."

The couple looks to me and Buffy with friendly smiles. 

"Oh, hey, Jonah," Kiara says. "What's up?"

"Just waiting for the bingo to start." Then I gesture to my friend. "This is Buffy, by the way."

"Hey," Buffy says with a wave.

"Hey," Wen says, giving her a look like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "I think we have a class together."

"Yeah, I think so too. Sports Media with Alan?" Buffy asks.

"Yeah," Wen confirms. 

Everyone's attention is stolen when I hear Walker's voice sound over a speaker, and the whole room looks to listen to him standing at a microphone on the stage at the back of the pub. 

"Hey, guys, um..." He looks nervous, which is funny to me, because he always seems so confident around me. "We'll be starting soon, so please find a seat if you haven't already. James over there will be handing out the bingo sheets."

He steps away from the mic and descends off the stage, heading over to talk to the girl waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. I don't think anything of it, but Kiara does, and what she says puts me on edge. 

"Have you noticed him talking to Ashley a lot more lately?" Kiara says, eyeing Walker then glancing back to her boyfriend. 

"I think they're just in a class together," Wen says. 

Yes. Okay. Good. They're in a class. That's why he's talking to her more. That's all it is. Why do I even care? Even if they were more than just classmates, that wouldn't affect me. Why is this bothering me so much? 

"They would be cute, though," Kiara goes on. 

That's all I can take. I feel my head screaming to get out of here, and I don't know why, but I'm not going to fight it. 

"Uh, I just remembered," I say, interrupting the two talking, "that I—um—I'm allergic to, uh…bingo."

I turn and rush out of here as fast as I can without running. Once in the hallway, I hear Buffy's footsteps chasing after me and her voice shouting my name. 

"Jonah!" 

Once far enough away from East Side Social and the whole food court, now in the area of the school where many of the health services are, I finally stop to let Buffy catch up. 

"What the hell?" she says as she skids to a stop by me. 

I start walking again, but this time slower to let Buffy stay beside me. It feels weird walking this calmly. It feels like I should take off like a jet. 

"Why did you leave?" Buffy questions.

I don't know how to answer that at first, so I don't. I just keep walking with her, passing by the chiropractor's office and Wellness Services, and then it hits me. It's nothing shocking. I definitely knew it for a while now, but I didn't want to accept it. 

"I think I like Walker," I say. "Like, the real thing this time. I think I don't want to be just his friend."

At that, Buffy lets out a sigh, saying, "Welp."

I watch as my friend goes over to the Wellness Services office, outside which is a plastic box on the wall that holds a bunch of free condoms. She grabs a handful and is about to give them to me when I interrupt her.

"Buffy, stop," I say.

She turns back around and drops the handful back into the box before coming back over to me. 

"I don't want to do anything like that," I tell her. 

"Well, what do you want?" she questions. "Are you wanting a commitment finally?" 

"I don't know," I respond. "Even if I did know, it's not like Walker likes me, so it doesn't matter."

Buffy raises her eyebrows in judgement. "How would you know if he doesn't like you? Have you asked him?"

"No—"

"Then I don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth about this until you talk to him. Got it?"

Talk to him? Like, talk to him about my feelings? Like, be vulnerable and risk being crushed? No. No, I'd rather not, thanks. I prefer no emotions, no way of getting hurt. 

"Kay," I mumble. "I guess you won't be hearing me talk about this ever again."

"Jonah..."

"I'll try," I say, simply because I know that's what she wants to hear. "But you know I'm not good at feelings and relationships and stuff."

"Jonah, you're almost twenty," Buffy states. "It's time to grow up and stop being afraid of your feelings. You keep saying that you don't want a relationship because you want to focus on school, but we both know that's a load of crap. You're afraid of commitment, and if you want to be with Walker, then you need to get over your fear of commitment and being hurt and just let yourself have something permanent for a change."

It feels like a slap in the face, but it's one I needed. 

"Okay," I breathe. "I'll try. I actually will."

"Good," Buffy says. "Now can we go play bingo now?"

"Sure," I agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I think this chapter was entertaining. Anyway, love you all. Bye!


	7. Chapter 7

Buffy and I found our own table to play at once we got back to the bingo, because I didn't really know how to explain my return to Walker's friends. We ended up missing half the first round, so needless to say, I didn't win. It was fun, though, and I liked being able to watch Walker say the numbers on the stage. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to talk to him at all, because he was too busy with running the event. 

I finally get to see him one-on-one when he opens our room door, and I look over from where I'm lying on the couch, watching Impractical Jokers on Netflix with his PS4. I pause the show as he enters in and tosses his jacket on the kitchen island. 

"So why did Kiara tell me that you were allergic to bingo?" he asks with a laugh. 

"Uh... She must have misheard me," I say. "I said I was allergic to...pigeons."

"She really heard you wrong," he says with a chuckle. "I keep telling her she should go see an ear doctor."

"Are there doctors specifically for ears?" 

"I don't know. Seems like there should be."

He comes over to the living room and furrows his brows when he sees the television.

"Are you using my Netflix account?" he asks. 

"Yes," I respond innocently. 

"Well, I hope you made yourself a profile," he says. "I don't need you mucking up my recommended shows."

"Don't worry. I made myself a profile a week ago."

He just laughs at that, while I sit here grinning. I could tell him now. I probably should. I told Buffy I'd try. I take a minute to work up the courage. I open my mouth, and…nothing comes out. 

"Yeah?" Walker asks, noticing my hesitation to speak. 

_Just say it. Say it, you wimp. Tell him you like him._

"Never mind," I mutter. "Forgot what I was going to say."

"Oh."

He goes over to the kitchen and grabs a mug out from the cabinet before putting the tiny kettle on the stovetop. He doesn't need to fill it up with water, because both of us have the tendency to leave the unused water in there. After grabbing a teabag from a different cupboard, he turns to me to talk while waiting for the water to boil. 

"So where did you go during the first round?"

"Uh…" I'm not prepared to answer this. "My friend texted me, saying that she was having an emergency."

"What was the emergency?"

"She got her hair stuck in a blender," I say before I can even process how stupid that response is. 

Walker looks horrified. "God, is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. She wanted to cut her hair anyway."

"Oh. Cool, I guess."

"Anyway," I say, wanting to get onto a different subject, "you don't have classes tomorrow, right?"

"No, and because I don't have to get up early, I'm thinking I'll have an Indiana Jones movie marathon tonight if you want to join."

He wants me to watch movies with him! Wait, that's a pretty normal thing. It's definitely not a crush-exclusive activity. I need to chill. This is not a sign that he likes me. Chances are he doesn't even like me. Oh, great. Now I'm talking myself out of telling him anything. How do I talk myself back into it? 

"Uh, yeah," I reply. "Sounds like fun."

"Awesome. I'll make popcorn." He spins around and opens the cupboard, then a second later, he turns back, saying, "Fun fact: we don't have popcorn."

"Well, I think my friends across the hall have some," I say. "I'll go see if they'd be willing to spare a package."

"Thanks."

I get up and go over to the door. After making it out into the hall, I suddenly feel really disappointed in myself. I had all that time to talk to him, to tell him how I feel, and I didn't. I'll do it when I get back. I'll tell him during the movie. Maybe he'll be so caught up in the film that he won't even hear me, and I won't have to actually deal with this. 

It takes ten knocks before the door is answered, but rather than it being one of the people who actually live here, it's Cyrus. 

"Oh, hey, Jonah," he says. 

Then I hear TJ's voice as he comes over to the door with a smile. "Jonah's here? Hey, what's up?"

"Do you guys have any popcorn?" I ask. 

"Yeah, sure," TJ says. 

He goes toward his kitchen, and I step into their room. TJ and Marty keep their place significantly more messy than Walker and I keep ours. It's so bad that I'm amazed Cyrus doesn't go on a cleaning rampage himself. 

"Are you having a movie night?" Cyrus asks. 

"Yeah. Indiana Jones."

"Oh, cool!" he says. "Can we join?"

"Uh, it's actually just gonna be me and Walker."

TJ doesn't get it. He has a confused face as he passes me the package of microwave popcorn. 

"Wouldn't it be better if we came then?" he says. 

"Um, well…"

"Jonah Matthew Beck!" Cyrus says in a gasp. "You have a thing for Walker!"

I double check to make sure the door is shut tight before turning back and saying, "Okay, yeah."

Cyrus lets out a squeal of excitement. "That's so cute!"

"You realize you're officially a fanfiction trope," TJ says.

"Yeah, I'm aware," I respond. "Thanks for the popcorn."

"No problem," TJ says. 

Cyrus closes the door behind me as I leave to return back to my own room where I see Walker with two mugs over by the TV. 

"I made you some tea too," he says. 

"What kind?" I ask. 

"Early grey."

"Oh, thanks. I got the popcorn."

"I see that. I'll get the first movie ready while you make it."

I do as told and remove the plastic from the popcorn bag before putting it in the microwave. While I wait for it to finish, my eyes constantly wander back to Walker on the couch. When I go over, should I sit next to him? Should I choose a chair instead? Is it weird if I sit next to him? Am I overthinking this? Probably. 

The beep wakes me from my thought, and I take the popcorn out of the microwave to pour it into a bowl then bring it over to the living room. There, I set the bowl down on the coffee table and take too long to decide where to sit, so I just end up plopping down onto the chair behind me. 

Walker gives me a weird look, saying, "You sure you can see the TV okay from there?"

I let out an awkward laugh and change spots, going over to sit down next to him. I keep my distance, though. I don't want to get too close, but I have a poor sense of judgement of what a normal distance is right now, because as long as I'm not right up against him, it feels too far away. Nervous, I scoot away a little more just to be safe.

Walker presses play on the first movie, and I glance over at him. His smile seems to be dimmer than earlier. I don't know what happened between now and when I sat down that made him less happy. Maybe it's the movie. Yeah, I guess it's that. 

As the movie plays, I come to terms with the fact that I'm going to continue being a wimp for another day. I'll tell him eventually. Yeah. Eventually. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Time for oblivious Jonah again. Anyway, two more parts to this. I hope you are all excited. I am. Also, I love you all, and have a lovely night!


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey."

The whisper makes me jump in my seat, and I whip around to see Walker's grinning face over my shoulder. I've been the only one in this work area for hours, so I wasn't expecting anyone to be here, especially not him. This is the third floor. The only people who come to the third floor are interior design students—and I guess me. I like it because it's quiet, so it's easy to focus, and there's a window near me which lets me see out to the pond and fountain. 

Walker drags out the seat next to me and plops down in it, lifting his leg up to rest his ankle over his knee. 

"What's Mr. Beck working on today?" he asks, peeking over at my books. 

"Environmental sociology," I explain. 

"Fun," Walker says. 

"What about you?" I question. "What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be in the arts building?"

"Usually, I would, but there's a specific room up here that I need."

"What room is that?"

Walker glances down at my open books then back up to me. "You got time?"

After packing my schoolwork into my backpack, I follow Walker down the hall. We take corners that I didn't even realize existed, which I guess explains why I have no idea where we're going. Eventually, we stop at a door without a window through, so what lies behind it is a mystery. 

"You ready?" Walker checks. 

"You make it sound like this is your secret lair or something," I respond. 

He chuckles and turns the doorknob. The door swings open to reveal a greenhouse with a glass roof and walls, filled with cubes of dirt and pots all growing various plants. Labels stick out of the soil, stating the name of the people who own each plant. 

"What is this place?" I ask. 

"It's the greenroom," Walker answers. "Students who have to grow things for assignments can get a spot here for that."

"So which one is your plant?"

He walks around to one planter at the back of the space, stopping at a green stem that's barely started sprouting. 

"Cool," I say. "What is it?"

"It's a pea plant," he explains. 

"Can I ask why you're growing a pea plant?" 

"For art," he says as though that explains everything. 

"Are you in a plant art class?"

"It's for a sculpture. I want to have a real plant in it."

"But since you didn't make the plant yourself, would that not be considered plagiarism?" 

"Well, shit," Walker says with a chuckle. "I'll have to make sure to cite mother nature."

I laugh, and he smiles then reaches up to touch the plant, dragging his finger over the top. 

"I bet whatever you're making with this will be really cool," I say. "Your art is always amazing."

He looks over at me and says, "Always, huh? You haven't seen some of my stuff."

"I've seen everything you bring to our room. I really liked the last one that you did. Those metal tube things that you welded and painted."

"That was for my project on current events," Walker says, looking down as he reminisces. "They were supposed to represent war and empty threats and stuff."

"I like them a lot."

He lifts his chin back up and turns his eyes to me again. "I didn't realize you cared that much about my art."

"Of course I care," I respond. "I mean, you made it."

"That's not much of a reason," he replies, eyeing me curiously. "There are lots of artists who do really incredible work. Me making something too doesn't really make it special."

"To me it does," I say. 

"And why is that?" he wonders. 

I want to tell him. I want to say the truth, that everything about him is special, and how he makes me feel things that are definitely special. But unfortunately, I'm not feeling especially confident today. I don't know how. I just don't know how to tell him the truth. Maybe that's partly because I still don't exactly know what I want to have happen after that. 

I'm pretty sure we've been staring at each other for longer than normal, and it's starting to feel like it's going to get too tense to back out of soon, so I rip my eyes away now while I still can. 

I hear Walker speak softly, "Um, I'm a bit thirsty. I'm going to go get a quick drink from the vending machine."

I stay where I am while he walks toward the door. 

"You want anything?" he asks, spinning around. 

"No, thanks," I reply. 

He nods and ducks out of the room. Feeling like there's too much weight on me at the moment, I let my backpack drop to the floor and lean on the rim of the planter. I should've said it, but I always think that only when it's too late. When I actually have the chance, I can't seem to get my voice to agree with my head to do it. 

All of a sudden, movement from the doorway catches my attention, and I look up to see Buffy entering in. 

"Buffy?" I say. "Why are you up here?" 

"I have a group meeting, and one of my group members wanted to work over here," she answers. "The real question is, what are you doing up here with Walker? I just saw him pass by, coming from here. Have you told him yet?"

"Uh, I'm getting to it," I lie. 

Buffy lets out a sigh, coming over to me at the end of the room. "Jonah, you can't keep avoiding your feelings."

"I know, but...it's just hard."

"I know it's hard. But sometimes you have to do things that are hard, because otherwise you'll never get anywhere. You're the only one standing in your way of having what you want."

"I don't know what I want," I argue. 

"You want to be with him, right?" she asks. 

"Yeah."

"And you don't want it to be temporary. You want it to be a real thing, a real relationship with him."

I nod. She knows me too well. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if my friends actually believed me when I made excuses. I probably would get away with a lot more. But I also probably wouldn't have taken as many risks, because they're always the ones who push me to step out of my comfort zone, which feels terrifying at the time, but I know they're right. Even now, I know Buffy's right. But will I get the courage to follow her advice? That's the question we're at. 

"Jonah," Buffy goes on, "you won't be able to have any of that if you don't tell Walker you like him."

That's when I notice the figure standing in the doorway. It's Walker, and he looks completely shocked, unsure of what to say. 

When Buffy spots him, her eyes go wide, she glances back to me, saying, "I'll let you two talk."

Walker moves over for her to exit, and he sets his can of lemonade down on the counter beside him. My humiliated mind renders me speechless, but I know I have to say something, so I force some words out. 

"I should explain."

"Don't," Walker says.

Then he starts toward me, acting faster than my brain can process. In an instant, that normal distance between friends is broken as he takes my head in his hands and kisses me. It takes me a second to realize what's happening, but when I do, I step in closer and kiss him back. I feel myself getting lighter until I swear gravity is gone, and the only force with any power is the one pulling me into him. That pull is so strong that I'm convinced breaking away will be impossible, until his lips do eventually part from mine. 

"So," he says, "how about a commitment this time?"

I wasn't sure before, but now I have no doubt in my mind.

"Definitely," I reply. 

And then he kisses me again, and I feel my body relax into his, knowing this isn't going to be the only time I can do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! There's only an epilogue left, so I hope you like it. Yeah, that's all.


	9. Epilogue

"Remember when we first moved in, and you wouldn't even be in the same room as me?" Walker wonders. 

He bends over to take the rhubarb pie out of the oven. Steam rises from the pasty as he sets it down on the stovetop. Our friends are coming over tonight, and we decided on making it a potluck mostly because we didn't want to have to cook for everyone. Walker and I have been working on this pie since we finished classes for the day, and I'm glad to see it finally done. 

"Don't remind me," I reply to Walker, feeling myself turning red. "I was so awkward."

"No kidding," he says with a laugh. 

I turn to get out the pie lifter from the drawer, but I'm distracted when I feel my boyfriend's arms wrap around my waist from behind. I completely forget what I was doing when he kisses my neck, triggering a tingling sensation through my skin. Once his lips lift away, I spin around and meet them with mine. 

He recovers his memory before me and lets me go, saying, "Your friends will be here soon, so you should finish getting that pie lifter out."

"You're the one who distracted me," I argue. 

"I know," he replies, "and I take full responsibility for that."

He grins and steps away to begin getting out glasses, and I pull open the drawer again to continue my task. As soon as we finish getting out all the dishes, there's a knock on the door, and I go over to open it up. 

All my friends stand on the other side, holding their own foods. I greet them, and they all pile in, clustering around the coffee table in the living room, with some at the island in the kitchen. Buffy, however, stays to talk to me individually. 

"Congrats," she says. "No need to thank me for making this"—she nods to Walker then to me—"happen."

"You know, if he hadn't liked me back, I would've been really mad at you for accidentally telling him I liked him."

"I know," she replies, "but it kinda worked out really well, so I can't say I'm sorry."

"Yeah," I say with a smile. "Me neither."

"Hey, Jonah," Walker calls, "ready to have your opinion on rhubarb pie changed?"

Buffy gives me a smile before leaving to go join Marty on the couch, and I find my way back to Walker in the kitchen. 

"Always ready," I answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. That's it. That's the story. I hope you liked it. I wanted to keep it short and sweet, so I'm glad I could do that. Yeah, anyway, I love you all, and I'll see you in the next story. I'm probably going to try to finish IGYHWD today, but we'll see how that goes. Bye!


End file.
